


Would You Love Me For The Hell Of It?

by myracingthoughts



Series: Lover Come Back [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24304594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myracingthoughts/pseuds/myracingthoughts
Summary: If the world was ending you'd come over, right?Post-snap snapshot of Fractionverse Clint.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis
Series: Lover Come Back [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773718
Comments: 19
Kudos: 100





	Would You Love Me For The Hell Of It?

Buzz.

“Barton?”

Buzz.

“Barton, what the hell is going on?”

Buzz.

“Please don’t tell me that you’re gone. Jane just disappeared on me, along with like half the lab, and I don’t know what I’m going to do without supervision. Might burn the whole building down or raid it for secrets I can sell on the black market or something. Is that a real thing people would do? Maybe I shouldn’t joke about that with someone who used to be a real assassin. Scratch that, is probably still considered a real assassin.”

Buzz.

“Seriously, Clint. Please don’t be gone. You can’t be gone. You’re the only Avenger I have on speed dial. Mostly because Thor refuses to get a phone.”

Buzz.

“Please be there, Clint.”

It took Clint Barton about ten minutes to realize his phone had nearly vibrated itself off the coffee table.

Ten agonizing minutes of wondering what the hell happened to Kate Bishop, who had just been lounging on his couch giving him shit about the latest mission he managed to end up shirtless on.

Ten minutes of staring at the pile of dust that sat where Lucky had been in his lap.

Ten minutes of wondering when he was going to snap out of this weird dream he was having and wake up to find everything still in its place.

But the reason he knew this wasn’t all just some dream was the rapid-fire stream of texts his phone was getting from someone who wouldn’t text him. Not even in his dreams. Not unless the world was actually ending.

Darcy Lewis.

Ex-girlfriend Darcy Lewis. The one he spectacularly fucked up with, so much so that even after SHIELD fell, he was still never called on missions that would be anywhere near the mouthy lab assistant.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t actually sure what her title was anymore.

But for all these reasons and more, there was no way even  _ dream world _ Clint Barton would be able to conjure up the idea that somehow, miraculously, Darcy would be texting him out of the blue right now. He didn’t even know she had kept his number — actually, how  _ had _ she gotten his number? It had definitely changed since the last time they’d been in contact.

His heart sank as he scrolled through her messages, fingers and brain locking up as he tried to think of how to respond. Settling on gut instinct, he called instead.

And if he wasn’t entirely convinced that something terrible had happened in the world, he knew it as soon as she — Lewis, a millennial — answered his call on the first ring.

“Oh, thank god,” she sighed on the other end of the line. “I don’t know—do you know? Clint, please tell me you’re there. Say something, please,” he could hear the frantic tones, knew she was about to slip into a babble before she’d even finished her inhale. “I just turned around, and Jane was gone, and everyone who was left was just  _ staring _ at me like I would know what the hell kind of April Fools day shit was going on here. And there was dust —“

“Darcy.”

“—And everyone else went home to check on their families and I just—“

“Darce, where are you?”

She actually paused at the sound of his voice. He could hear a shuddering breath on the other end of the line and a tell-tale hitch.

“You don’t know what’s going on either, do you?” Darcy’s voice was tiny, realization dawning on her that this might be something big.

“Nope,” Clint’s throat felt tight at the thought that this was even bigger than he’d considered. “Katie’s gone. Lucky too.”

More silence.

His mouth went dry as he processed the scene playing out in his head.

An attack on people close to the Avengers he could get. Alienate the Avengers, force some fear into them by attacking those closest to them. That sounded plausible for any big bad.

But Darcy was a civilian, as far as any threat was concerned. Sure, he had a connection to Thor, but he would hardly consider her a target, especially with Jane out of the picture. This couldn’t have been strategic — wouldn’t they have kept the scientist intact if this was some sort of espionage play?

What if everyone was gone? The hollow thought rang out before he could stop it, spiralling through his mind. Why was Darcy the only one contacting him? Where was the team? He knew they were one some sort of mission, but he hadn’t been called on.

Was this somehow his fault?

Clint had to check that his phone was still connected because the other end of the line was still quiet.

“Darce, where are you? You still there?” he tried to keep his voice level, to not show how scared he was that Darcy was just going to disappear while she was on the phone with him.

Because frankly, at this very moment, Clint Barton was terrified of being left alone.

“I’m here,” she choked out. His gut churned at the thought of her crying. “I’m at Stark’s labs. At the tower.”

Guilt ran through him as he realized she’d been minutes away from him for months, and he’d never thought to check-in. He briefly wondered if Stark had been keeping him away from the tower on purpose. And then wondered if he had, whether that was to protect him or Darcy.

He’d bet Darcy.

But he couldn’t leave her there. If this was as bad as he thought it was, then things were about to get worse. Really bad for everyone in the city. Everyone around the world.

She couldn’t stay where she was.

Stark Tower was a beacon in the Manhattan skyline. A giant, glowing sign that screamed ‘there’s expensive shit and state secrets in here.’ If anything was going to get looted or attacked in the confusion of whatever this was, it would be the tower.

The words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them, “OK, stay there. I’m going to come get you.”

“No—“

His car keys were in his hand before she could try to convince him otherwise.

“Darcy, I’m going to try to get in touch with Natasha and the team while I’m on my way to come get you. We’re going to figure this out. Stay put.”

He couldn’t tell her that if he hadn’t already heard from the spy, it was probably pretty far gone. There was a good chance she had disappeared with everyone else. He had to put on his best face for her because a scared Darcy was not what he needed on his hands.

Not when they had to make it out of this thing, whatever it was, in one piece.

“Please stay safe,” she requested softly. “I—I don’t know what I’d d-do—“

Sucking in a deep breath, he tried to steady the thumping in his chest at her broken stuttering. It hit a part of his chest he’d thought he’d locked away a long time ago, the one that just wanted to smooth out her hair, whisper in her ear and hold her until everything blew over.

He picked up his own pace of putting on his shoes and getting his things together. He needed to get there. He needed to be there for her now.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll call once I’m there. Just lock the door and don’t come out until I tell you.”

“OK,” she sighed, sounding relieved. “OK, yeah. I’ll see you then.”

As quickly as he hung up, he dialled Natasha’s number.

No answer.

Steve.

No answer.

Stark, last resort here.

No answer.

He was down in the garage getting his car when he pulled up his secure server, the one Nat and he used for drops and outside-SHIELD contact, just to see if she had left him a note.

Nothing.

So he left a coded one of his own and slipped his key into the ignition. In truth, he probably shouldn’t have been driving — his mind was still racing through all the terrifying possibilities. Was it Hydra? AIM? Asgardians? Other aliens?

None of their usual M.O.s fit here; nothing made sense.

Once he got to street level, he truly understood how far-reaching this might have been. Twenty or so stalled cars sat empty in the streets, forcing Clint to make some creative detours to avoid hitting the abandoned vehicles. There were people on the sidewalks zipping by, crying, confused, scared. Calling out names like they were looking for a lost dog.

The truth was a lot more sinister.

And by the time he made it to Midtown, it looked like the looting had started. Assuming there weren’t going to be too many traffic cops out right now, all things considered, he parked outside the building and looked inside the lobby. Someone had already thrown a trashcan through the window.

This looked bad.

Hitting Darcy’s name on his touchscreen, he let the sound carry through his hearing aids as he locked his car.

“Clint?” She sounded both panicked and surprised.

He felt a pang of guilt at the thought of her not knowing if he’d really call back.

“I’m here, but stay where you are. I’m going to come get you.”

“O-OK,” he could hear a clicking in the background, nervous shuffling, chewing.

He could almost picture her nervously chewing on the end of a pen—the likeliest scenario.

“Are you alright?”

He already knew she wasn’t.

“It’s bad out there,” she replied in a very unlike-Darcy voice.

Shit. He could only imagine what the view from the skyscraper was like right now between the unsavoury and panicked civilians. Car fires and crashes and… desperate people. He grimaced at the thought of her having to watch and process that alone.

“Do me a favour and step away from the windows, Darcy. It’s probably better that you don’t look outside, sweetheart.”

He cringed. It just slipped out, like a habit he didn’t even know he still had. Not that it felt  _ wrong _ necessarily, but here he was, on a rescue mission to pick up his ex-girlfriend in the middle of Midtown, as the world was turning to dust around them. And he called her  _ sweetheart _ .

“Yeah—yeah, you’re probably right,” but from the hitch in her voice and the lack of mercilessly ribbing him for the slip, he could tell she’d already seen too much.

It wasn’t like Darcy to be silent. Anyone who’d been within six feet of her at any point in her life would be able to tell you that. So the empty space where the sound should be on the phone call was deafening, sending Clint’s already high blood pressure skyrocketing.

His mind was too focused on dodging people in the lobby and making it to an elevator to think up his own end of the conversation to keep her occupied. It didn’t look like anyone was armed. Most of the people in the lobby wearing the usual Stark Industries security badges. Not that it was an inherent reason to trust people if prior experience had taught him anything.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he rounded the corner into the elevator bay, popping into the first set of open doors.

Staring at the ceiling of the elevator car, as if the A.I. was some heavenly body — it might as well have been in that moment — he said, “JARVIS, take me to Darcy Lewis.”

“Right away, Mr. Barton.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the robotic voice that reminded both of them they were still on the call, but Darcy broke the silence first.

“Did you get a hold of anyone?”

His jaw locked at the thought of the unanswered calls and messages.

“No. They might have gone dark,” Clint replied without flourish.

“Right, spy stuff,” Darcy muttered. “Wouldn’t they tell you if it was something world end-y?”

A punch to the gut is what the simple sentence sent through Clint. She couldn’t have known how much the offhand comment hurt. Couldn’t know that he regularly wondered whether he was even considered an Avenger anymore, with the lack of missions, meetings and briefings he’d had in recent months.

Clint had felt like he’d been on the sidelines, sucked into the world of being a landlord, dog owner and mentor. He didn’t feel  _ super _ on the best of days, never mind when some earth-shattering world event was going on, leaving him to sit there clueless, twiddling his thumbs.

“I don’t know anymore,” he admitted, saying a lot more with the short sentence than he needed to.

“Mr. Barton, Ms. Lewis’s lab is the fourth door on the right.”

That was new. He’d never used JARVIS beyond the elevators and occasionally tormenting Stark, but he supposed it made sense to have GPS functionality in a building’s labyrinth.

“Almost there, Darce,” he told the brunette.

Her head was sticking out her doorway into the hall as soon as the words left his mouth. It made his heart stop, the fear in those stormy eyes. The red at the end of her nose told him she’d been crying if the wet tracks on her cheeks didn’t already tip him off.

Fresh tears slid down her face at the sight of him, and she quickly met him in the hall, throwing her arms around his neck as if sliding into place. His arms wrapped her to him, tracing comforting circles into her back and instinctively kissing her hair. It just fit. It was the wrong moment, the wrong time, the wrong expression on her face. But they just worked, like two pieces of the same puzzle.

Clint let go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as she nuzzled into his chest, wracked with tears.

“Darcy, it’s going to be OK,” he whispered soothingly even though he didn’t believe the words himself. “I’m here now, you’re safe.”

Pulling herself out of his hold, she grasped his arms and searched his eyes. He knew that look.

“What do we do?”

The breathy whisper sent him reeling, wishing he could give her a full plan of attack, wishing he even knew what they were up against. He wanted nothing more than to keep them safe. To keep her safe. That was his only priority.

“I’m going to take you to my place, and we’ll hole up there while I try to piece this together. It’s secure,” he added to appease her skeptical look. “We should go before things get worse.”

He started towards the elevator.

“Clint.”

He turned at the sound of her voice, watching as she reached for his hand.

“Thanks for getting me,” the ghost of a smile hung on her lips as she looked at him, eyes still red from the tears.

And even with the puffy eyes and nervous nail-biting, she was as beautiful as ever to him. In another life, maybe they could have had an everyday, peaceful existence. One that didn’t regularly threaten their lives or tear them apart from each other for extended periods.

Maybe they’d have bought a farm, moved out in the country and raised some kids. There were so many maybes he’d barely entertained before the break-up. He never thought of the future, didn’t want to, too stuck in trying to survive the present. He was kicking himself for not being there for her. For letting her walk away and erase all those maybes from the possibility list.

Yet here he was, world end-y incident aside, and she had reached out to him. He didn’t know if he was her first text or her tenth, but she did. And it didn’t really matter. She had not only gotten his number but kept it, just as he’d always kept her in his contact list.

There’d been nights his thumb hovered over her name a little too long. Sleepless nights after too long at the bar he’d thought he’d check-in. He was suddenly glad he didn’t.

As messed up as this whole situation was, he was glad it was her here with him.

He was glad to have her.

“I’ve always got you, Lewis.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did I write this at 4 AM because I couldn’t sleep and needed to distract myself? Yes. Yes I did.
> 
> Welcome to my first — and likely not last — TaserHawk fic. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> All comments and kudos are loved and cherished.  
> You can also find me on [tumblr](https://pasmonblog.tumblr.com/), where I post a lot of comic book content, work updates, and behind-the-scenes commentary.


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